


Natural Remedy

by wendymr



Series: Existential Flu [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If anyone's going to make him see sense over this existential flu nonsense, it's going to have to be Robbie Lewis.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Remedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tristraine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tristraine).



> Written for Tristraine, in response to [this comment](http://inspector-lewis.livejournal.com/523455.html?thread=3528383#t3528383) in the[ Favourite What-Ifs](http://inspector-lewis.livejournal.com/523455.html) thread on . It's not exactly as you described your idea, but I hope it comes close!
> 
> With very many thanks to Uniquepov and Lindenharp, who not only BRed, but helped me when I got stuck and showed me where I was going wrong.

James stubs out his cigarette, sniffs, and props his face up on his fist, staring downwards. It’s the most emotion he’s seen his sergeant display in a long time – but it’s not the kind he wants to see.

Robbie frowns, pausing in the act of setting his pint-glass down. “You all right?”

James looks mildly pissed off as he answers. “My clothes smell of dry rot. Murray’s house.” 

Robbie almost snorts. Whatever’s going on with the bloke, the fact that yet again he’ll need to have a suit dry-cleaned because of work is hardly it. And then James confirms it by dropping his gaze, staring down at the table and biting his lip.

Robbie knows better than to say anything. If he’s going to get any more out of James, it’ll be through waiting and observing. He keeps his expression neutral, though open – an approach that’s worked well with hundreds of witnesses and even suspects over the years. If this were three, or maybe even two years ago, James would brush him off with a flippant or self-deprecating comment, or would simply drain his glass and get another round in, thus evading the question. Now, though, there’s a deeper level of trust between them. He might get his answer, and then he might actually be able to do something about whatever it is that’s been bothering James for the past while.

James pauses, tapping the table with his fist as he stares somewhere – anywhere – but at Robbie, and it doesn’t take the skills of a detective inspector to know that the lad’s debating with himself. What to say; whether to tell the truth, or part of the truth, or to dismiss the question entirely. 

When James does speak, he’s still staring into the distance and playing with his glass, and Robbie has to wonder if the bloke knows how much he’s giving away. “All these lonely people pouring their lives into puzzles that can’t be solved...” He takes a drink, then sets his glass down. “Ah, ignore me.” His hand shifts restlessly on the table. “Got a touch of existential flu.” Finally, he meets Robbie’s gaze again, expression faintly self-mocking.

Yeah, and Robbie doesn’t need to be an existentialist to understand what’s behind that one. Another of James’s periods of self-doubt, when he frets himself half to death about what he’s doing with his life and whatever deep and meaningful things he believes he should be achieving – instead of actually looking at the good he does every day just by being the fine copper and decent human being he is.

He’s on his own too much, that’s what it is. Doesn’t have anyone to come home to and remind him that there are other things in life than poking through the remains of some poor sod’s lost existence. There’s no-one even to give him a good hug once in a while, is there? No partner, no close family – maybe no family at all – and does he even have a best mate?

 _Sort of. Me, isn’t it?_ So if anyone’s going to make him see sense over this existential flu nonsense, it’s going to have to be Robbie Lewis.

James obviously wants to drop the subject, but Robbie stares back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, until the lad sighs. “What?”

He considers his words, testing them out in his head. _I’m gonna say it just this once. For your sake, you need a partner, James._

Should he risk it? It’s more personal than he’s been with the lad before, even if he’s thought it any number of times. He had Val all those years, didn’t he? Someone to come home to, to relax with, to shake off the horrors and frustrations and sheer boredom, sometimes, with. Someone – Val and the kids – to remind him that there was good in the world, and that not everyone he met would lie, deceive, abuse or kill. James needs that. But where’s he going to get it? What’s the point in telling him that he needs it if there’s no chance of it happening? 

In all the years he’s known the bloke, how often has he been in any kind of relationship? Once, if he counts Fiona McKendrick, and the more Robbie considers that brief interlude the less he thinks it counts at all. He’d wondered, over the past couple of days, whether James might take that young botanist up on her obvious interest, but he’s pretty certain now that that’s not going to happen.

He’s wondered too, over the years, whether James is gay, straight or a bit of both. Not that any of that’s important anyway. What is important is...

...not putting the lad’s back up, or suggesting something that’s not going to help one bit because, for whatever reason, James isn’t going to find someone. He’ll only resent it if Robbie says it, won’t he?

Besides, what kind of way is that to respond to what’s as close to a cry for help as he’d get from James? It’d sound like a brush-off. Patronising, dismissive even. 

And it still bothers him that, the last time James uttered a cry for help in his direction, he walked away instead of listening. Yes, he was bloody furious that the bloke had lied to him, but it was plain as the nose on his face that there was something seriously wrong and James needed him to understand, not judge. 

He won’t walk away this time.

He drains his pint instead of answering immediately, then squares his shoulders. “Come on, let’s call it a day. Come back to mine. I fancy takeaway an’ some rubbish telly.”

James hesitates, and for a moment Robbie thinks he’s going to need to apply the thumbscrews. But after a moment the lad nods and finishes his own pint, setting the glass down decisively. Good.

_____________________________

“You don’t have existential flu.”

It’s a couple of hours later; they’ve shared Thai takeaway and another couple of beers and they’re now sprawled together on Robbie’s sofa. Robbie’s in jeans and a rugby shirt, while James is still in his suit trousers, though the jacket and tie have gone – he really must tell the bloke to keep a change of clothes over here for evenings like this. 

He’s left their earlier conversation alone until now, not only because he didn’t want James to assume that that’s the only reason he invited his sergeant over, but also because he wanted some time to think about what to say. Though, in the end, it was easy. There’s only one thing he does want to say, and only one thing that makes sense.

“I was joking, sir.” James’s tone is dry, and there’s an undertone of warning; don’t go there.

“Yeah, yeah.” Robbie nudges him with his shoulder. “You’re just on your own too much. Too much time to brood and doubt yourself. There’s an easy cure for that.”

James raises an eyebrow. “What? Buy myself some multivitamins and self-help tapes next time I’m in Boots?”

Robbie gives him a long-suffering look. “You could get some of those nicotine patches. Giving up smoking might make you look less of a brooding emo.” He smothers a laugh at James’s disbelieving expression.

“Nah. Just don’t be on your own so much,” he explains after a moment. “And before you say it’s not as simple as that, it is. You don’t have to be on your own. You’ve got me, haven’t you?”

Abruptly, James is avoiding his gaze again. “Sir...” _Oh, here we go._ Stupid sod’s assuming the offer’s made out of pity.

“Don’t be daft. Course you do. Let’s face it, who does either of us have? What was it you said to me last year? Who else would understand you? Who else would understand me, come to that.”

And that’s what it really comes down to. Who better to shake James out of his fit of the miseries than himself? Who better to pull him out of the spells of grief that still hit him once in a while than James, who’s done it tactfully and effectively over and over again as long as they’ve known each other?

He reaches out and covers James’s hand with his own. It’s an impulse, but even as he’s doing it he knows it’s exactly the right thing to do. If words won’t convince the man, touch will.

James looks at him then, startled and disbelieving. And he’s still got that lost look he had earlier, back at the pub. Christ, it hurts to see the lad like that. He needs...

Robbie reaches out with both arms and pulls James to him. It takes a moment, but then James makes a faint, indistinguishable sound and wraps his arms tightly around Robbie, burying his face in Robbie’s shoulder.

_____________________________

It feels like a few minutes before James stirs and starts to pull away, and by then Robbie’s beginning to feel a bit... well, weird about the fact that he and his male best mate are wrapped in each other’s arms.

James looks away as he straightens, but after a moment he turns back to Robbie, lips quirked in a half-embarrassed smile. Robbie snorts softly and his own lips curve a bit sheepishly. “Not really the kind of thing...” James begins.

“Nah.” Robbie shrugs. “Let you off this once, though. Since you’re sick, an’ all.”

James frowns. “Sick?”

“Existential flu?”

“Thought you said I didn’t have it.”

“Well...” Robbie bumps his shoulder against James’s. “Sorted for now, I hope. Though you know they say prevention’s better than cure.” He holds James’s gaze, arching his brows in a meaningful look.

“Point taken.” He gets a very brief tilt of James’s mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re all right. ‘Sides–” He offers a crooked smile. “Prone to the odd bout of flu meself sometimes.”

There’s unspoken gratitude in James’s eyes as he says, “Oh, well, in that case I consider it my duty to ensure prevention in your case also, sir.”

“Good.” Definitely time to change the subject. “Another beer? And yeah, you’re staying the night, so you can have another.”

That’s enough touchy-feely stuff for now – but the point’s been made, and he can reinforce it another time if he needs to. James won’t end up like Murray Hawes or Michelle Marber, obsessed with the unsolvable because there’s nothing or no-one else meaningful in his life. 

He can start by making sure that James doesn’t have time to brood or be lonely. 

“Oi, what are you doing next weekend?” he asks as he wedges the bottle-tops off. 

“The long weekend?” James leans back on the sofa, resting his feet on the coffee table. “Thought I’d be working.”

“Nah. Got Innocent to take us off the rotation, seeing as we worked over Easter. An’ I promised Lyn I’d come up and help them move into the new house. Could do with an extra pair of hands, if you’re willing?”

James blinks. “They’re moving house, with a new baby in tow? And yes, of course I’ll come, if you think Lyn wouldn’t mind me being around.”

“You’re joking!” Robbie brings the beer over. “She’s been trying to round up friends of theirs, but it’s the May bank holiday. Most of them are going away. She’ll probably fall on your shoulders an’ hug you.” He settles back next to James on the couch. “And it wasn’t their choice to move after the baby was born, but the chain took longer than they expected, an’ then Lyn was only a couple of weeks away from her due date.”

“Mmm.” James takes a drink. “I’ll look forward to meeting her – and your grandson.” His tone’s casual, but Robbie knows what that slight dip of James’s head and tinge of pink spreading across his face means; he’s touched that he’s being invited to meet Robbie’s family. Should’ve done it long ago, Robbie reflects. And once Lyn meets him, she’ll insist that Robbie brings him up to visit again. 

“Just make sure you don’t come down with the flu before then,” Robbie cautions with a grin, and pats James’s knee. 

James’s lips twitch. “I promise to take plenty of preventive medicine.”


End file.
